


JW + MH

by thelookyouredoingthelookagain



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Jealousy, John & Mycroft Sitting in A Tree, M/M, Sherlock Gets Angry, They Have A Shouting Match, Tricks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-24
Updated: 2014-10-24
Packaged: 2018-02-13 08:28:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2143935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelookyouredoingthelookagain/pseuds/thelookyouredoingthelookagain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now that Sherlock's back, John wants their relationship to change. Mycroft suggests a solution, but it might ruin everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Set Up

**Author's Note:**

> All works here were produced by two friends in the fandom. One writes as SH and one as John, and we edit together. Our characters are based on the BBC's _Sherlock_ , though we don't mind playing a little loosely with canon and the occasional AU. We have whims and like to follow them. While we like to torture our boys with constant misunderstandings, we know they belong together and we always see to that.
> 
> All posted works are complete, and we hope there will be something for everyone. Please take a look at our other works. Just a note, though, there's pretty much always going to be smut. Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst, but always smut. We can't help it: that's just the way we are.
> 
> We plan to add new work each weekend, so please subscribe. 
> 
> We also really appreciate the kudos and comments --they mean so much. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

John remembered the first time his therapist suggested that he was in love with Sherlock. He had simply been too affected for it to be just flatmate -- or even best friend -- grief. He'd been angry and stopped seeing her after that, but the second Sherlock was back in his life he knew it was true. The problem was that, while Sherlock was clearly glad to have John back, John doubted it was in the way he wanted it to be.

He had subtly tried to coax the feelings out of him -- asking for a candle at Angelo's, laughing along with the jokes about them being a couple, and even making his own jokes at home. But Sherlock was just the same as ever. At least that's what it looked like to John. He knew he could always simply tell Sherlock how he felt, but that was too risky. He'd only just got him back, he didn't need to lose him again.

And then help came in the most unexpected way. Mycroft had come to the flat to give Sherlock a case, and he had deduced what Sherlock seemed to keep missing. When Mycroft first texted him, John immediately thought to deny it, but that was stupid. To his surprise Mycroft offered to help. Sitting at his desk now John wondered if this really was the best plan, but Mycroft knew Sherlock very well so it was worth a try. But he also knew this was almost as risky as just telling Sherlock himself.

He played with his phone, stalling as he tried to think of how to say it. Then he just decided to go for it and hope for the best.

_Your brother asked me out today. -JW_

_Better than kidnapping. Where and why? SH  
_

John stared at the message and for a split second wondered how long they'd have to drag this out -- if Sherlock didn't fall for it would John have to date Mycroft? No . . .they'd surely think of something.

_He hasn't told me yet, it's going to be a surprise. -JW_

What on earth was John talking about? What did Mycroft want that he was calling John away for a secret meeting and why wasn't John more irritated about it? He sent Mycroft a message.

_Why have you invited John to a meeting? SH_

_I haven't invited John to a meeting. MH_

_He said you had. SH_

_I invited John on a date. MH_

Sherlock stared at the words. They made a little rage rise in his chest, but he wasn't entirely sure why. Was Mycroft playing some game and to what ends?

_Go to hell. SH_

He typed it but deleted it before he hit Send. Mycroft was surely trying to get a rise out of him -- and he had -- but Sherlock did not want to let him know. He went back to John's message and tried to think of a response.

Mycroft knew that if Sherlock hadn't texted back within thirty seconds that he wouldn't at all. Mycroft sent a text to John.

_He knows and he's pouting. MH_

John wondered what Sherlock had said and wished Mycroft would have told him. Pouting why? Because he hadn't deduced it? Because he hated Mycroft? A second later a message arrived from Sherlock and he had no idea what to say back. He texted Mycroft again.

Sherlock hadn't thought of anything brilliant to say to John, but he didn't want his silence to speak for him. So he quickly sent the only thing he could think to say.

_Interesting. SH_

_Yes, I thought so too. -JW_

Sherlock didn't pick up his phone immediately. In fact he thought about not picking it up at all, but that lasted all of about a minute. He read John's text.

_When is this happening? SH_

Then he quickly sent another.

_I may be going away for a few days. SH_

He hadn't thought enough about that before he'd sent it. It felt like the first step of a plan but he didn't know the other steps of the plan or even why he felt the need to have a plan in the first place. He didn't understand anything that was going on and he really, really hated that.

Away? Sherlock hadn't mentioned anything about going away before this. For a second he was excited because that could be a sign of the plan working -- Sherlock was so jealous he couldn't even stand to see it happening. But immediately John realised he wouldn't be here to see it happening. 

_Oh. Um, we're going out tonight. Where are you going? -JW_

John opened the text to Mycroft again. 

_He's leaving town. I don't think this is working, Mycroft. -JW_

_He's not. It is. MH_

Sherlock needed to stop texting and think, but he needed to know how much time he had to think.

_When will you be back at the flat? SH_

_I'm on my lunch now. So about four hours. -JW_

John stopped texting Mycroft now. Whatever those two were talking about -- well, he couldn't do anything about it. He'd just have to stay on his toes and deal with Sherlock.

_See you then. SH_

Four hours. Sherlock had four hours to figure this out.

Which one was behind it? It had to be Mycroft; Mycroft was always behind everything. John wasn't devious and, even if he were, what would he be trying to get from Sherlock? Could this be just to hurt him -- for going away? That seemed unlikely; Sherlock knew that his leaving had crushed John, but they had talked about it, they were all right now, John had assured him. In fact, they seemed closer now than they'd ever been and it was good. It was better than good. Better than Sherlock had thought it could be.

So it must be Mycroft's doing. What did he want from Sherlock?

But Sherlock's mind kept going back to John. Why was John going along with Mycroft? Why would John be going out with Mycroft? Before, John had been even more suspicious of Mycroft than Sherlock had been. But now, it appeared things were different. Why?

Suddenly two years seemed like a lifetime. A lifetime that Sherlock had missed. But one Mycroft had not. Sherlock picked up his phone.

_Are you taking John to your usual place? SH_

_And to which place are you referring? MH_

_The place you used to take him while I was away. SH_

Mycroft smiled.

_Nice try, brother. MH_

Sherlock threw his phone across his desk. Fine, he thought, fine. Maybe he should go away for a few days. Maybe longer. They were obviously happier without him here. Obviously, he wouldn't go away. When he was away before he hadn't known about Mycroft trying to seduce John; now that he did, he certainly wasn't going to be able to do anything else but think about it, regardless of where he was so he might as well stay here to try to . . . to what? Stop it? Yes, Sherlock wanted to stop it. Why? Because it was Mycroft? Or because it was John?

Because it was Mycroft and John. It wasn't supposed to be Mycroft and John. It was supposed to be Sherlock and John. John didn't go on dates with men. John went out on meaningless dates with women. And then came home to be with Sherlock. Where he belonged.

Because they were a team. They were friends. They were best friends.

He got up and retrieved his phone and sent John a text even though he knew he'd be with patients.

_Since when do you go on dates with men? SH_

And then another.

_Did this start while I was away? SH_

And then more.

_Is this your first one? SH_

_Do you need advice? SH_

_Really, John, Mycroft? Questionable choice. SH_

And then Sherlock realised what he was doing. And sent one more.

_Please disregard previous texts. SH_

He went into his bedroom, pulled the shades and got into his bed with his clothes still on.

Oh, John thought. So maybe the plan was working. He had received too many texts in a row. After the last one John typed back quickly.

_Yes, this is my first date with a man. I've been thinking about it for a while -- your brother happened to ask. He knows I'm sort of trying it out and wants to take me out anyways. I could do a lot worse than him. -JW_

Sherlock thought he heard his phone make a noise, but he wouldn't let himself go pick it up. If it were Mycroft, he didn't want to deal with him. And if it were John, well, Sherlock was going to disregard his previous texts even if John refused to. Sherlock squeezed shut his eyes and tried not to think.

He opened them a few hours later. He hadn't deleted the whole thing about Mycroft and John, but decided he would just pretend he had. He got up and made a cup of tea, setting out John's mug for when he got home. He opened his laptop and then noticed the light on his phone.

He read John's text. This was unacceptable. Since when was John 'trying it out'? And how would Mycroft know this when Sherlock didn't? He pushed his phone across the desk, closed his laptop, left his tea and went back and got into bed.

John waited for a text for a long time and eventually gave up on one. He continued to see patients until it was time to go home. He packed up his things, put away his papers and left the building. They could talk more about it at the flat. He used his time in the cab to get his head together a bit. This was going to be the hardest part -- making sure Sherlock didn't deduce that he was lying.

When he got upstairs he was shocked not to find Sherlock on the sofa where he usually was. He moved onto the kitchen and collected his tea. He took a deep breath. "Sherlock?" he called out.

Sherlock had heard the door, but couldn't make himself get up. When he heard John's voice, he had to quickly decide whether or not to acknowledge it and deal with him or pretend he was out and hope John didn't come in and find out he was lying.

"I'm in bed," he called back.

John walked towards Sherlock's bedroom but stopped halfway down the hall. "Are you sick? Do you need anything?" He felt stupid asking, but he didn't know what to do. He couldn't allow himself to feel guilty. 

"Don't come in," Sherlock said. "I'm not alone."

John looked up now and felt his chest tighten, his stomach twisting violently "I wasn't. . . I'll leave you alone," he said, backing up into the sitting room. After a minute passed, he went up to his room -- he couldn't risk hearing anything.

Sherlock got up and walked up to John's room. He knocked on the door but didn't open it.

"Obviously, I'm alone, John," he said. "I don't have secrets." He turned and went back to his desk where he discovered his cold tea so he moved to the kitchen to turn the kettle back on.

What? Why was he lying? Well okay, John was lying too so he couldn't actually be upset about that, but it was still strange. He got up and walked down to the kitchen to find him. "Are you still going away?"

"I haven't decided," Sherlock said. "I'm feeling a bit . . . confused about things so perhaps it might be nice to go clear my head."

"Confused . . . can I help?" John asked, looking down at his mug. He didn't know if it was best to play dumb about what was bothering him, but it seemed the best option for not revealing the plan.

"Honestly, John, no," Sherlock said. "Normally, you are a help, but this time no." He took a sip of a tea. "Since you chose not to disregard the texts, despite my asking you to, I'm sure you've figured out that you're the one who is confusing me."

John flushed lightly and looked down again. "How could I disregard them? We can talk about it . . . if you want."

"No, it's too late for that," Sherlock said. "It's not necessary now."  
  
"Well, I've obviously upset you so -- fine. That's fine, Sherlock." He turned and went into the sitting room, flopping down in his chair and opening the paper.

Sherlock watched John. Perhaps he had been wrong about the motivation behind it -- perhaps it had been John, perhaps he wasn't done being hurt by Sherlock's leaving.

Sherlock took his tea in and sat down in his own chair. "So this is how you are now?" he asked.

John looked up at him and shrugged. "It started a while ago. I've been back and forth about acting on it -- like, going to a pub or something. Mycroft asked so I figured, well, why not? I could start there. He knows it's a trial but he wants to try anyways." John stared at his tea the whole time, feeling so . . . awful about the words he was saying. They were half true and he prayed that if this should work, that Sherlock wouldn't be so angry that it would only mess things up anyways.

"I don't mean the gay thing," Sherlock said. "I mean, is this how you are now -- you upset your best friend and you just sit and read the newspaper?"

"No!" John looked up now. "You're the one that didn't want to talk to me! You said I'm no help."

"And when I upset you -- even when I can't fix it -- I say, 'that's fine, John' and go about my business? I didn't think that's how things worked here. But clearly my deduction skills aren't what they used to be, so I'm sorry. I obviously thought we were something we're not," Sherlock said, getting up from his chair and moving to the desk.

"Sherlock, hold on a second. _You_ said you didn't want to talk to me. I didn't want to bother you -- I don't understand why you're upset." John got up and went into the kitchen, leaning on the door now. "What's wrong?"

"What I say is clearly irrelevant to you. I said to disregard the texts -- you didn't do that. You seem to pick and choose what to listen to -- I can't only guess it's because you'd prefer not to talk about this. At least with me. That's fine, that's your right. After all," he said, not looking up from the papers he was fiddling with, "I am just your flatmate, your colleague. Before I went away you made stupid choices about your 'love life' and we rarely spoke about them. I don't suppose there's any reason to start speaking about your stupid choices now, is there?" He stood up as if he were going to leave the room but instead he just stared blankly out the window.

John felt his stomach twist uncomfortably. "Look. All I did was share some news with you that I thought was strange. Ever since then you've been terrible to me. I don't know what's wrong with you, I'm trying to find out and you are being even more terrible." John sighed and put his mug in the sink. "I am going to get ready now. I'll be in my room if you decide to tell me what is going on."

John moved past him and went up to his room, angry and hurt. This was blowing up and he knew that if it was going to hurt the friendship, he'd rather have that over nothing. He would tell Sherlock and hope for the best.

Sherlock hated everything about what was happening. He hated not knowing that John was 'trying it out,' he hated the fact that his brother had, and he hated that now John was 'trying it out' with his brother. But he also hated his own inability to talk properly, and it worried him that John had finally reached his limit with tolerating Sherlock's inabilities.

He sunk down into his chair and picked up his phone.

_There is nothing strange about the 'news' that he asked you out. What is strange is your accepting. That wasn't 'news' to you so don't pretend that you were simply 'sharing some news you thought was strange.' I don't understand what is going on, and I shall just have to accept that. But don't pretend that any of this is normal. Even for us. SH_

_He said he'd been thinking about it for a long time. It's not like I realised I liked men and called your brother. I should have told you that I've been considering it, but it was a strange thing to bring up randomly. I felt strange anyways. The only reason I'm agreeing to see Mycroft is because he asked me. -JW_

Sherlock knew the most sensible thing to do was to have a conversation like normal people did. But John and Sherlock have never been normal. And this was now even more not normal.

_Some of that is not true and you know it. I don't believe you are going out with someone you have in the past claimed to hate simply because he asked you. There is something else going on, John. I don't know what it is but you do. SH_

_I know we haven't got along before, but he seemed sincere when he asked. Plus, he knows that I'm still figuring things out. A stranger will make it hard for me. -JW_

John almost added that the date was the only thing going on, but he figured he'd lied enough already so he simply avoided it.

_Yes, John, that makes excellent sense, doesn't it? After all, Mycroft has a long history of caring about your feelings and doing everything he can to make your life happy. Naturally, I can see why you would turn to him. SH_

_You're making it sound like I chose him out of a line of options. He asked, I accepted. It's just a date. -JW_

_Lie. If you're interested in me, you would have done the asking. Someone you like. You wouldn't wait for someone you hate to ask you. SH_

_Sorry, I meant *men*. SH_

John's heart had stopped beating when he saw the first message, and it only started again when the second message came through.

_I already told you that I've been considering going to a pub, but he asked first. I'm not going to keep arguing with you about my intentions if you're going to ignore half the things I'm telling you. -JW_

He tossed his phone onto the bed and continued getting dressed. John had no idea what Sherlock was feeling right now, but he didn't know what else to tell him.

Sherlock stood up and walked to John's bedroom door. He tapped lightly and then, without opening the door, said, "I know about lying, John, and what happens when you lie is you get lost between what's true and what's not. That's what's happening to you right now. I told you that I'd never lie to you again and I haven't. I am telling you truthfully right now: I do not want you to do this." He walked downstairs and into his bedroom and shut the door.

John looked at the door and listened to him, almost chewing through his lip. He took a deep breath in an attempt to settle his stomach and he left his room, going down to Sherlock's room. He knocked on the door. "Can you tell me why?"

"Because something is wrong about this," Sherlock said through the door. "At first I thought it was his doing, being devious as usual. But now I worry that it's . . . us. If this is what you want then I think I've been wrong about us."

"Wrong about what?" John asked, leaning his head against the door. _Mycroft is being devious,_ John wanted to shout, but he couldn't because he knew he was, too. And it was starting to seem that he could never tell Sherlock as things got worse and worse.

Sherlock swallowed. "I thought we . . . knew each other. Everything. Always. And now there's something so big about you that you've been hiding from me. It's bad enough that he knows, but what about . . . me . . . us?"

"I wasn't hiding it! I just . . . I told you I felt strange bringing it up. 'Oh, nice weather today, by the way I think I like men.' I just couldn't get it out. I didn't tell Mycroft. He-he said he could read it when he was over here," he said. That seemed better than making it seem like John was confiding in Mycroft.

"That can't be true, John," Sherlock said, "Mycroft can't read people. Mycroft can't know you better than I do. Can he? Unless . . ."

"He said . . . he said he noticed it when he was over here giving you that case. He texted later to say he knew my interests had changed." John knew he was digging himself in a hole.

"That cannot be true! How have your interests changed without my knowing it, John!" Sherlock wanted to open the door but couldn't.

"I don't know! You're the one not paying attention," John said.

"I always pay attention, John. I guess I was just unaware I had to be so vigilant with you," Sherlock said. He didn't know what to say -- he was so full of conflicting thoughts and yes, emotions. "Are you still going to go out on this date?" he asked.

"Yes. The only reason you've given me so far is that you feel left out!" John knew he was pushing it, but maybe this was the only way.

"You're right. I do feel left out. Because you are deliberately leaving me out," Sherlock said. He opened the door and stood before John. "Is that why you're doing this? Because Mycroft knew when I was gone and you didn't -- now you want me to know that hurt?"

"No! Sherlock, I would never want to hurt you like that. That's not what this is about." He gazed up at Sherlock and backed up a bit. "And I didn't leave you out, I told you he asked me."

"You say you're interested in men now, is that true, really?" Sherlock said. He watched John's face closely.

"Yes," he said out loud, keeping his eyes on Sherlock's.

"Men or a man?" Sherlock asked.

John swore inwardly. "A man."

"My brother?"

John couldn't help making a face. "No."

"Say his name, the man you're interested in, say his name," Sherlock stared into John's eyes.

John flushed but didn't dare look away. "You, Sherlock. It's you."


	2. The Fall Out

Sherlock watched John's face. He knew he wasn't lying. He swallowed hard and said, "How dare you, John. How dare you turn this into a game."

John flushed darker, his stomach twisting violently. "I didn't think . . . it was Mycroft's idea and I knew it was crazy but-but you weren't picking up my hints and-and I wanted to know how you felt before I said anything." His voice got quieter and quieter as he spoke, realising more and more what a stupid idea this was. He'd be lucky to be Sherlock's flatmate now, let alone more. "I'm sorry."

"No, John," Sherlock said. He repeated it. "No, John, that's not what we do. We don't give hints. We don't not say. You made me promise to never keep anything from you again. I made a promise to you, John, and now . . . " Sherlock's voice had a tension to it and he realised that his whole body was rigid. "I don't doubt it was his idea. But you, John, you . . . you've made a mockery of everything we had and . . . I can't . . ." He pushed the door closed and moved over and sat down on his bed.

"Sherlock wait -- " He touched the door as it was shut in his face. "I'm sorry, okay? I was afraid -- I was afraid to tell you because I didn't want to lose you. And this is worse -- I know this is worse but -- but he said you'd never give in to sentiment and I'd have to do something drastic and I believed him." He leaned on the door and sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Go away," Sherlock called.

John shook his head and pushed open the door, closing it behind him. "I will not go away. I am trying to apologise," John said, crossing his arms stubbornly.

"Get out of my room," Sherlock said. "This is what happens, John, when you make the choices you've made. Not immediately telling me? Okay, maybe I can understand that. But aligning yourself with him, letting him turn us into one of his games? No. Just go -- you've got a date shortly anyway." He stood up and walked to the other side of the room.

"At least I played with your brother and not some bloody maniac. You played with Moriarty and had to fake your death so no one would die! What I did is child's play, Sherlock. Don't lecture me about playing games." John was fuming now, glaring over at Sherlock.

Sherlock turned around sharply. "Don't you dare, John Watson. That was life or death, and you know it. Why were you playing this game? To trick me into . . .what? Feeling jealous? I am jealous of every person you give a minute of attention to." He glared back at John. "You've done nothing but make me feel stupid."

"Oh yes. And God forbid Sherlock feels stupid," he sneered, unable to help himself. "You don't think I felt stupid when I found out I mourned for someone who hadn't even died? When I found out I was speaking to an empty grave? _You_ invited him to the pool and started the bloody game." He took a deep breath and shook his head. "Yes. I wanted you to feel jealous. I wanted to you think Mycroft was going to steal me away and I wanted you to do something about it. It was stupid -- the stupidest thing I've ever done, okay? I. Am. Sorry." 

"No, John, the stupidest thing you've ever done is say what you've just said. You're blurring everything now. Moriarty has fuck all to do with your little game today and you know it," he moved over closer to John. "But the greatest irony of all? Moriarty apparently saw me more clearly than you or my brother ever has. He _knew_ , John."

"Knew what?" John asked, holding his ground as Sherlock came closer. "Forget him. I shouldn't have brought that up. But you don't get to judge me on what I did today. I was scared, and I foolishly trusted someone I thought knew you the best. I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry I listened to your stupid brother, I'm sorry I didn't just tell you how I feel, and I'm sorry I dragged _him_ into this." 

"You're apologising for all the wrong things, John! Mycroft told you that this little game would make me jealous and I'd do something to stop him from stealing you away? Only an idiot would think that -- which he obviously is. But you too, John? Really?" He walked away from John for a minute, standing and staring at the wall, before turning back. "Are you really so blind?"

"I told you I've been hinting for a long time and I have been watching you and you've showed no sign of catching on. Mycroft noticed. He convinced me -- I didn't know what else to do," John said. He was holding Sherlock's gaze, wondering where this was going to end. As of now it didn't seem like it would be good. 

Sherlock threw his hands up in the air. "My god, you are infuriating," he said. "Do you even hear yourself? _You've_ been watching _me_? And you, with your excellent powers, deduced that _I_ wasn't catching on? You're the one who has no idea what's been going on, John. The whole 'I want to try dating men and I'm going to date your brother' thing I admit had me confused, but don't you think for a moment that I don't know what's been going on here."

"Oh, fuck you! Just because I can't distinguish 100 different types of bloody ash doesn't mean I can't tell when someone is interested in me! I know my signs weren't very obvious, but you didn't give me anything! And don't pretend you knew what was happening because you're throwing a right fit over all of it," he countered.  

"I am throwing a fit over your utter stupidity, John. I know precisely what was happening, but I was absolutely unaware that you did not. That's why your little game made no sense to me," he said. He took a sharp inhale of breath and then moved over to where John was standing, bending slightly so that their faces were lined up and close. "Do you want to know what was going on, John? I'll tell you," he said slowly and clearly. "You don't need to try to make me jealous, John, because I am jealous of everyone you speak to, John, because I want every moment of your time. How could you not already know that, Mr I've-Been-Watching-You? But I never have worried that someone would steal you away because I know that you belong to me. You are mine just as I am yours. I've known that, John, and I thought you did, too."

John held his gaze as Sherlock's words buried into his head, trying to make sense of what he was saying. Always jealous, belong to each other -- it seemed like Sherlock thought they were a couple already. He suddenly felt a bit overwhelmed, as if he'd missed something very important. He didn't know what to say, he couldn't find any kind of argument so he simply closed the space -- the very small space -- between them and pressed a kiss to his lips. He pulled back and met his eyes again. 

Sherlock stepped closer to John, pressing him back against the door and leaning his body into him as he crashed into a kiss -- a kiss that was years in the making and filled with every emotion that Sherlock had ever had.

John reached up and wrapped his arms around his neck, one hand burying into his hair and holding on tightly. He kissed back with matching ferocity, arching to press into Sherlock's body more. 

Sherlock reached down and grabbed the bottom of John's jumper and started to pull it over his head. He stepped back and pulled off his own shirt and then pressed into John again, skin against skin. He bit John's bottom lip, before pushing his tongue into John's mouth as he used his hips to push John into the wall.

John was already panting in the three seconds it took to throw off their shirts. His hands came down Sherlock's body, sliding over his chest and sides, coming to rest at his hips. He pulled hard, forcing their bodies together as he rutted shamelessly against him. After a bit his hands made their way to the button of Sherlock's trousers, pulling them open and trying to push them down. Nothing was enough, and he craved more and more. 

Sherlock slid his arms around the back of John and then turned them both, still kissing. He pushed John down onto his bed and undid John's belt and button before pulling off his jeans. He stepped out of his own trousers and then crawled over top of John on the bed, kissing him hard once more. He rested on one elbow as he slid his other hand down John's body, to hold both their cocks, and began rolling his hips.

John broke the kiss to moan loudly, panting as he found Sherlock's mouth again, kissing him hard. He bucked into Sherlock's hand, clutching at his shoulders and arms desperately. He could feel their cocks pressed together, and heat flooded through him so intensely that his vision blurred for a moment. He'd dreamed of this so often, and he could hardly believe it was happening now.  

Sherlock moved his mouth to John's neck and sucked hard on the skin. Then he shifted to John's ear, biting the lobe. "Is this what you wanted to try, John? Is that what you want now?" He thrust against him, the friction of their cocks flooding heat through his whole body.

"Fuck, Sherlock," John breathed heavily, bringing a hand into his hair again. "You . . . I've just wanted you for so long," he moaned. 

Sherlock let go of their cocks and started to just stroke John's as he kissed his mouth hard again. Then he said, "Lift up your knees," and he reached over into his drawer for a bottle of lube. He poured some into his hand and then quickly climbed back between John's legs. He reached down, brushing past John's balls, and hovered his finger over John's hole. He kissed him again as he slowly pressed a slick finger inside him.

John broke the kiss and tilted his head back, taking a deep breath before finding his lips again. He moved against his hand, wanting more. His own hands wrapped around Sherlock's back, fingers digging lightly into his skin.   

Sherlock started to pump his finger into John, rocking his hips to press his cock against John. He dropped to John's neck, sucking and nipping the skin. "John," he moaned as he slipped in a second finger.

John threw his head back farther, feeling slightly overwhelmed by how many things he was feeling. He pulled his legs up a bit more, biting his lip. He reached down and wrapped his fingers around Sherlock's cock, stroking lightly.

Sherlock moved his mouth across John's collarbone and back up his neck over his chin and then onto John's mouth again, pressing his tongue inside. He slid his fingers from John's body and shifted himself slightly, pulling himself out of John's grasp. He stroked his own cock a few times, rolled on a condom, and then moved down between John's legs. He lined himself up and slowly pushed in as he let his head fall to the side of John's, moaning against the bed.

John arched and tilted his head so far back his eyes met the pillow again. He whimpered before moaning loudly, bringing his head back to look up at Sherlock. He brought his hands to Sherlock's ribs, holding him tightly and rubbing his sides. 

Sherlock started to rock his hips. He slid his arms under John's and brought his hands up over John's shoulders and gripped, pulling John down against his thrusts. "Fuck," he said, "I'm not going to be able to stop, John." He dropped his head again, panting against John's ear.

"G-good," John moaned, holding him tighter and he lifted his hips into Sherlock, a soft moan escaping with every thrust.

Sherlock pressed his mouth against John's and let his hips go. He pushed in as far he could and as he pulled back, he knew he was going to come. He bit John's lip again as he thrust once more, calling out John's name, his body freezing with tension before letting it all go. He quickly lifted his body up onto one hand and slid the other down to John's cock, pumping it furiously and watching John's face.

John knew that realistically he couldn't feel Sherlock filling him, but he almost believed he could as he watched Sherlock overcome by his orgasm. Only then did he close his eyes and focus on that lovely hand. Seconds later he was moaning loudly, calling out for Sherlock as his own orgasm ripped through him.

Sherlock let go of John's cock and dropped his body onto him, feeling the final pulses of John's orgasm against his belly. His pressed his head against the bed next to John's, moving it to wipe the sweat from his brow. He couldn't say anything.

John turned his head towards Sherlock despite the fact that he was panting. There was so much he wanted to say, but his brain refused to work with him. But they had time. He closed his eyes as his breath became a bit steadier. They had so much time now.

Sherlock slowly shifted his body, pulling out of John and moving over next to him. He rolled over and lay on his back, looking up at the ceiling. He wasn't sure what exactly he wanted to say so he still said nothing.

John slowly turned onto his side, gazing at Sherlock. The enormity of what they'd just done was slowly starting to sink in, and he wondered if Sherlock regretted it. He reached over and gently took his hand. "I'm sorry about everything," he said quietly, stroking the back of his hand with his thumb. "Not what we just did," he added. "Just everything before."

"It's strange," Sherlock said quietly, still looking up and the ceiling, but turning his hand to squeeze John's. "I've always wondered if this would happen, but I didn't think it would happen this way."

"When you were away . . . that was when I realised how I felt about you. I never thought I'd get to tell you. I just let myself get tricked -- I was so nervous."

"Why, John?" Sherlock said. "You said, no more secrets." It's not that Sherlock was still mad, it's just things still didn't quite make sense to him.

"I know. I wanted you to notice so you could decide if you wanted to bring it up or not. I was just afraid of losing you again. We were trying so hard to get things back to normal and I didn't want to ruin that."

Sherlock turned on his side. "That's the part that confused me, John. You're supposed to know me -- but you didn't know I wouldn't be the one to initiate change. And you should have known you'd never lose me again because I promised you wouldn't. And we are always normal, even when things aren't good, because we belong together. If my leaving didn't ruin what we are, how could this?"

John turned on his side as well and meet his gaze. "It's not the same, Sherlock. What you did -- that's normal for us. But sentiment and love – I thought that was only normal for me. And I thought if I told you, you'd just tell me how you're still married to your work and it's not your area and I didn't want to hear that again."

"Really, John? Think for a moment: I let the world think I was a dead fake for two years to save your life. Did you really believe there was no sentiment behind that decision? And when I came back, I came back to you. No sentiment or love in that? I'm human, John, I feel but my actions speak my feelings even if my words can't."

John felt his eyes burn lightly and he looked down to the mattress. "I never thought . . . that was my fault and I'm sorry I didn't believe in you. That I didn't see. I'm sorry."

"Well . . . your first clue today should have been when you were going on about being better at observing than me . . ." He smiled softly and then reached over and touched John's cheek.

John looked up and chuckled softly. "I didn't say I was better than you," he said. "I just thought you were refusing to see sentiment. Did you pick up on any of my little hints?"

"Well, I'll be honest . . . I don't know. I just thought we were better, better than before. I guess that felt good enough for me," Sherlock said. "I'm sorry you felt I didn't notice your changes."

John nodded and covered Sherlock's hand with his own. "I wish I could go back to this morning and just tell you. I'm sorry I let him convince me. He's going to be impossible to deal with now," he smiled softly. 

"You're right. He is," Sherlock said, turning back over onto his back. "I'm glad I won't be the one dealing with that."

John hesitated for a second before scooting closer to Sherlock, resting his forehead on Sherlock's shoulder. "I won't ever do this again -- anything like this again," he said quietly. 

"I hope you don't," Sherlock said, sliding his arm around John and stroking his shoulder. He swallowed. "Do you want me to try . . . to do something differently?"

"No," John said, shaking his head. "No, you haven't done anything wrong. It's like you said, I should have just told you. We don't have to worry about that anymore."

"But if you change your mind -- if you want me to say or do things differently, just tell me and I will try," he looked over at John. "I mean it. Don't try any more tricks, please. Just say."

"I won't, I promise." John looked up and doubted he'd ever get over the shame of trying to trick Sherlock, especially using Mycroft to do it. "I promise."

"Fine, then it's forgotten. Except, of course, for your date tonight with Mycroft. But that's between him and you," Sherlock said.

John looked down again. "Can we just not talk about that? Please? I'm sorry."

"I'm just teasing you, John Watson," Sherlock said, "but if you do go, you should know my brother expects some action on the first date," he put both his arms around John and squeezed him.

John groaned and buried into Sherlock's chest. "I'm going to hypnotise you and make you forget all of it," he mumbled.

"I'd like to see you try," Sherlock said, putting a kiss on the top of John's head.

"One day when you least expect it," John teased.

"Fine," Sherlock said. "Don't you think you should put some clothes on now and do something useful with yourself?"

"No. My usefulness was my going to work. Now I will lay naked with the man I love and plot my secret hypnosis attack plan."

"All right, you do that, but I've got work to do," Sherlock sat up and then stood up and stretched. He put his clothes back on. Then he leaned over John's body, kissing each of his nipples before trailing his tongue down his belly to his cock. He used one hand to lift it and sucked in the tip, swirling his tongue around it.

John's eyes opened when he felt Sherlock kissing his nipples, and then there was more and he squirmed lightly. "Sherlock!" He moaned in surprise, arching up a bit.

"Shush," Sherlock said. "I'm working." His other hand gripped John's thigh as he took more of him into his mouth, sucking up and down.

"Working?" John moaned softly. He tried to steady himself so he wouldn't buck into Sherlock's mouth. It was so warm and wet and he loved every second.

"Yes, I'm being useful," Sherlock said. "So hush." He licked up and down John's cock as he squeezed his thigh again. He could feel himself getting hard in his trousers, but he tried to stay focused on John.

John closed his eyes and bit his lip, stifling a small moan. "It feels good," he murmured.

Sherlock looked up. "Good," he said, "that's what I want you to feel." He put a soft kiss on John's cock and then moved up and did the same to his mouth. "Now get up, lazybones. I'm going to make us a cup of tea." He stood up, straightened himself out, and went out into the kitchen.

"What?" John's eyes flew open and he watched surprised as Sherlock left the room. He continued to lay there, wondering if he was teasing and waiting for him to pop his head back in and laugh. "Sherlock?" he called out, his fingers stroking lazily.

A few minutes later, Sherlock put his head round the door. He smiled at John and said, "Finish that if you want, but then get yourself up and come out here. Tea's almost ready." He turned and walked back into the kitchen.

John frowned lightly and wondered if this was his punishment for what he'd done to Sherlock. But he was properly hard now and he couldn't just get up and go. He wrapped his fingers around himself and started to stroke himself.

Sherlock waited a few minutes for John and then he tiptoed back to his bedroom door, standing outside to listen. When he could tell what John was doing, he shifted slightly so he could peek in without being seen. He watched John.

John closed his eyes and thought about Sherlock's mouth again, shifting almost immediately to Sherlock pressing him against the wall, pushing into his body. He moaned softly and bit his lip, bucking into his own hand.

Sherlock kept watching John, feeling a twinge in his cock as he did. It was sexy. He'd often wondered about what John did when he was on his own, and he felt a little unsure if he should watch. But it was too good for him to be able to turn and walk away.

John gripped harder, swiping his thumb over the tip with a small whimper, spreading the precome so his hand could glide easier, faster. He breathed Sherlock's name, gripping the bed with his free hand. Heat was pooling steadily and suddenly he was moaning Sherlock's name, coming all over his belly.

Sherlock felt his own breathing changing and he slid his hand down to palm his own hard cock through his trousers. When John came, Sherlock inhaled and then softly exhaled and then stepped quietly back. He moved to the sitting room and adjusted himself, taking a few more breaths, and then walked back to the kitchen and poured the water into the mugs. "Tea's ready," he called to John.

"Okay," John called back. He took a moment to catch his breath, nipping into the bathroom to wipe himself off. Then he went back to Sherlock's and, not wanting to put his jeans back on, he slipped on Sherlock's dressing gown and went to join him.

Sherlock turned and handed John the mug. He smiled and said, "I watched you." He took a sip of the too hot tea. "I hope that's not a problem."

"When? Just now?" John asked, feeling his face flush lightly.

"Yes, just now," Sherlock said. "I'd imagined you doing it before . . . before I left even, so I couldn't stop myself. It was sexy." The image popped back into his head and he felt an electricity in his cock, so he tried to make the picture go away. "All right, anyway," he said, turning and moving to the sitting room. "Are we getting something for dinner or what?"

"Yeah, um, do you want me to order something? Was that your plan?" He asked as he followed Sherlock and looked for his phone.

"I didn't have a plan," Sherlock said. "But I see you've opted to pass on clothing, so perhaps staying in would be wise." He walked over and squeezed John's backside through the dressing gown.

John jumped lightly. "Only for the moment, but I can get dressed properly if you'd like to go out," he said. "As you saw I made a bit of a mess," he smiled.

"Stop talking about it," Sherlock said, "it's distracting me from thinking properly." He drank some more tea. "We can order in -- let's just stay here tonight. I just want it to be me and you tonight."

"Okay." He glanced over and smirked. "Did you like the part where I moaned your name? I'll try and be a little louder next time."

"Stop it!" Sherlock shouted. "Or I'll have to go into my room for a few minutes."

"To do what I did? Seems like a waste when I'm right here. I could do it for you here, right in that chair," John continued.

"You wouldn't," Sherlock said, hoping John would.

"Of course I would," John said easily. "I'd get right down on my knees, wouldn't I? Suck you off proper -- though, after your little game maybe I'll just suck you off half way and make you answer the door when they food comes."

"I don't believe you," Sherlock said, knowing John liked a challenge as much as he did.

John looked over at him, catching on to his game and smirking again. "You want me to show you?"

"If you insist," Sherlock said, sliding himself down a little in his chair.

John grinned and stood up. "I can't have you thinking I'm a liar," he said. He walked over to Sherlock and dropped down to his knees, working his trousers open and tugging them down. "You just had to get dressed," he teased with a sigh.

"I was just trying to be a grown up, John," Sherlock said, lifting his hips to help him. "For once."

"What a time to decide to be a grown up," he grinned. He tugged Sherlock's pants down as well now that he had the chance, releasing his half hard cock. He licked a stripe up the shaft, swirling it around the head.

Sherlock tipped his head onto the back of the chair. John's mouth felt good -- it'd been so long since Sherlock had had this feeling. "God," he exhaled. His hands gripped the arms of the chair.

John huffed a hot breath on the head before taking him into his mouth, bobbing up and down as he looked up at him.

Sherlock looked down and watched John move. It was so sexy, and he let out a small moan. He moved one hand and rested it softly on John's shoulder. "It feels good," he said softly.

John hummed around him and nodded. Sherlock was properly hard now, filling his mouth as he moved up and down. He slowed down just a bit, taking Sherlock a bit deeper, swallowing around him. And then there was a knock at the door and he slowly pulled off, sitting back on his heels. "That'll be dinner," he murmured, smiling up at him.  

"You're horrible, you are," Sherlock said. He didn't move -- not to get up, not to even pull up his trousers. "I'm not getting the door. I'm not moving from this chair."

John shrugged. "Okay," he said easily, getting up now. He got some money and headed downstairs, paying the man and bringing the food back up. He bypassed Sherlock, showing him the brown bag before going into the kitchen. He took his time finding plates and getting their dinner ready.

Sherlock watched John go downstairs. While he was gone, he quickly stroked himself but as soon as he heard John come back up, he stopped. He waited for John to fuss about in the kitchen and when John came in carrying the plates, he said, as sweetly as he could, "John, I was wondering, before we ate, would you please just come over here and give me one kiss?"

John smiled and leaned down to kiss him. "Do I get to watch now?" he asked softly.

Sherlock lifted his hand and pulled John's head to his again, kissing him long and hard on the mouth. As he did, he stroked furiously. He held the kiss as long as he could and then just pressed the side of his face to John's cheek, panting against John's ear. His fingers got lost in John's hair and then he was coming and calling John's name. He held their heads together until his breath calmed and then he released John and dropped his hands to his legs and took a deep breath.

"Oh," John breathed, too caught up in everything to protest or do anything but watch him. "I was teasing but . . . wow," he murmured, kissing Sherlock's temple. John felt warm from watching, biting his lip as he pulled back a bit. "You're bloody gorgeous," he murmured, kissing his mouth again.

Sherlock stood up, slipped off his shirt and wiped himself up, and then went into his bedroom, coming back out redressed in a new t-shirt. He sat down and started to eat his dinner. "Thanks for ordering this," he said, "and for getting the door."

"Even though you should have," John teased, sitting down and starting his own meal.

Sherlock looked over at John and smiled. "I'm glad for you," he said.

"Glad for me?" he asked, getting up and bringing back two bottles of water. "What do you mean?"

"I'm glad I have you," Sherlock said, taking a bottle from John. "You're everything, John."

John flushed and smiled happily. "I'm glad I have you too, Sherlock. I love you," he said.

"I love you, too, John," Sherlock said.


End file.
